


Blessing | Devastation

by monsterleadmehome



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Nun Hermione, Order Member Draco Malfoy, Priest Draco, Priest Kink, Wizard Witness Protection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-05
Updated: 2019-06-05
Packaged: 2020-04-08 03:54:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19099228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/monsterleadmehome/pseuds/monsterleadmehome
Summary: After Draco Malfoy defects to the Order and destroys a Horcrux, Voldemort wants him dead. The Order decides to send him into hiding in the least likely place, with the least likely protector.





	Blessing | Devastation

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LovesBitca8](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LovesBitca8/gifts).



> Happy Birthday, Draco Malfoy!
> 
> OK, so this fic is not only to celebrate Draco's bday but also gifted to Bitca, who encouraged this craziness. Title and general mood comes from the song "St. Jude" by Florence + The Machine. My whole family is Catholic, but I was not raised in it so any mistakes are mine. Prepare for some light sacrilege. This is also unbeta-ed because I am a last minute kind of bitch.
> 
> And yeah the island is basically Skellig Michael, so feel free to imagine the other nuns as fish nuns. Can't keep Star Wars away from me for too long. XD

Draco licked his lips, now familiar with the salty taste of the sea breeze. The wind whipped his robes around viciously and not for the first time he marveled at how similar priest robes were to the ones he wore in his other life—as a wizard. The collar left something to be desired, though. He dipped a finger in between the stiff fabric and now slick skin of his neck.

The feeling of being choked was all in his head, he knew.

Still, he felt stifled here. Like he was suffocating. Even with all this fresh ocean air.

He stretched his fingertips at his side—how long had it been now since he’d last held a wand?

Too long.

Worse yet, his only confidant—the only one who understood his situation—was his mortal enemy. Someone who, until recently, he never thought he’d be able to trust—let alone be in the same room with.

_Speak of the devil._

Hermione Granger trudged up the steep stone steps on the edge of the cliff. She looked ridiculous in her nun’s habit—yet it somehow also suited her.

“There you are.”

“Aren’t I always?” He smirked, his lips too mischievous for a priest.

“One of these days you’ll tumble into the sea.”

“You should be so lucky.”

She returned his grin. “You need to get ready for Mass.”

“Right.” He swept his gaze over the waters once more, his eyes matching the stormy sea.

 

* * *

 

“It’s like witness protection program, in a way.” Kingsley was trying his best to explain, but the purebloods in the room had no idea what he was referencing. They were all exhausted, the war having dragged on for years longer than initially thought.

“So you want Hermione to just leave the Order and babysit _Malfoy_ on some remote island?” Harry was livid, his glasses practically fogging with intensity.

“He needs to be protected. The Dark Lord wants him dead!”

Ron pinched the bridge of his nose. “I don’t see how that’s our problem.”

“He _did_ destroy a Horcrux. It was the last one besides Nagini.” Hermione’s voice was quieter, but she still sounded firm. “I’ll do it. For the Order.”

“Hermione, you really don’t have to—” Ron started.

“Great. It’s settled then.” Kingsley’s tone brokered no opposition.

 

* * *

 

It had taken time to get adjusted in the tiny muggle community on the small island. The land was verdant, the people pious, their lives centered around the only large building there—an ancient stone church. Hermione was at a loss for words the first time she saw Draco dressed as a priest. Her parents had been raised Protestant but were never big on religion. She’d only ever seen members of the clergy on television shows.

He looked _handsome_ , which was unfortunate since priests were celibate.

Of course, she could never tell him that. Just like she could never tell him that she had begrudgingly come to respect him after what he did for the Order. Switching sides and destroying a Horcrux was practically absolution.

She kept her wand in a holster on her thigh, underneath her habit. They both had parts to play, and magic had no place in a convent. It was easy to fall into a routine with the other nuns. They accepted Hermione quickly—her aptitude for learning mistaken for religious devotion. She gathered flowers with them to distill the essence and make into soaps and lotions. She learned how to knit (properly) and how to sing hymns in Latin. She went fishing and prepared food with the sisters.

It was their first week on the island, and Hermione had made her first meal on her own. The eldest sister, Margaret, shooed her off to deliver the priests their sustenance.

It caught her off guard to see Draco in his cassock, head bent low as he recited whatever prayer the current father was teaching him. When he finished the older man clapped him on the shoulder and uttered, “Well done, Father Malfoy.”

She waited in the doorway until they noticed her and bid her entrance. “I’ve brought dinner for you both.”

“You made this?” Draco sounded impressed, no hint of derision in his tone.

Maybe this would work, after all.

 

* * *

 

Six months. It had been six months with no word from the Order.

Was Voldemort dead?

Was Harry?

What had happened to his parents?

Draco had more and more unanswered questions as the time ticked away. Sometimes he lit candles in the sanctuary, for something to do. Sometimes a burst of his magic would cause the flames to flicker. Sometimes he even tried talking to God.

No one ever talked back.

He’d gotten used to the collar and the cassock.

He’d said goodbye to Father Brian when he left for the mainland and retirement.

The church, and therefore the town, was in his hands now.

It seemed like some kind of cruel joke. He was a former Death Eater turned priest for muggles who looked up to him as some kind of beacon of morality. Which, if he were being honest, was really more Granger’s strong suit.

He wasn’t sure if it was her muggle upbringing or simply her vast intellect, but she really seemed to fit in here. The other nuns all loved her—as did the ordinary people in the town. And at some point, the things he used to find so annoying about her he now came to value.

It was funny how things changed over time.

 

* * *

 

It was the little things that started to drive Hermione mad.

He would brush up against her when there was plenty of room in the aisle.

He started to drop by the convent just to check in more often.

And really, where did he get off just parading around in front of her constantly, his taut muscles covered in black save for the little square of white at his throat?

Her habit felt too hot, especially on such a sunny day. She trekked down to the water’s edge. At the bottom of the cliff, there was a sandy little beach surrounded by a rock wall. She sometimes went swimming there when no one was around.

After being covered in so many layers all day, being nude felt freeing. She floated in the water, letting her hair fan out around her like she was a Renaissance painting. She lingered far longer than was likely appropriate and slowly rose out of the water, putting her thin shift on first. The white material clung to her wet curves as she made her way up the beach. It was then she caught a figure watching her from the edge of the stone steps. She reached for her wand.

“Father Malfoy… how long have you been there?”

He started stalking towards her. “Long enough, Sister Granger.”

Hermione’s breath hitched when he grew close enough to see the look in his eyes. It was absolutely feral. On instinct, she started to back away from him. Step by step, he closed in until she felt her back hit one of the tall rocks.

“Are you frightened?” Draco didn’t look concerned, a wolfish grin spreading across his face.

She was, but not in the way he was suggesting. Giving in to her desires had always scared Hermione. She gulped as he leaned in. “You—you took a vow.”

“Ah, but you’re forgetting, Granger—” he paused, hooking the little strip of white with his finger and pulling it out from his collar. “I’m not really a priest.” His lips hovered just a breath over hers. “And you’re not really a nun.”

Then his mouth was on hers and Hermione felt electric—every nerve ending a live wire. She wrapped her arms around his neck and gasped, giving him easy access to slip his tongue into her mouth and seek the sanctuary she offered there.

His hands ran down her neck, her shoulders, her sides, coming to rest at her hips where he dug his fingers in deep. “You’re driving me insane. I’ve been imagining stripping you out of this ridiculous getup for weeks.”

“You? What about _me_? I have to watch you recite prayers with that beautiful mouth. I’ve learned to be quiet so the sisters don’t hear when I make myself come to the thought of your lips all over my body.”

His smirk returned as he kissed her again. “That can be arranged.”

He blazed a trail down her body with his mouth, kissing her neck, sucking her nipples through her wet clothes, and finally pushing up her gown to lave at her inner thigh.

Hermione spread her legs on instinct as Draco ran his tongue through her folds. She moaned as he nipped and mouthed at her swollen flesh. Then he sucked on her bundle of nerves, and she cried out, “Jesus!”

She could feel him smile as he pulled back to look up at her. “Nope. Still Draco.”

She slapped his head for good measure, but it soon turned into her fingers pulling at his platinum hair as he continued his barrage on her: licking, swirling, sucking. Her breathing was already heavy when he plunged a finger inside of her.

“Draco!” She knocked her head back against the rock, but barely felt the sting.

He added another finger and crooked them just _so_ , reaching that textured spot inside that had her writhing against the rock as she drove her cunt onto his face.

She came with a whimper, going nearly boneless as he licked her through her orgasm. “Fuck.”

“That’s the idea, darling.”

 

* * *

 

He hadn’t given it a whole lot of thought before, but in that moment Draco decided that God must be real. Only a higher power could have created someone that beautiful. Never in a million years did he think he’d be the reason that Hermione Granger came, but now that he had witnessed it, he would be forever thankful.

He scooped her up gently from her spot against the rock and laid her down on the sandy shore. Ideally, they would’ve had a bed for this. But he couldn’t deny himself another minute without the feeling of her in his arms. He was so hard already, the taste of her coating his tongue. “Tell me you want this as badly as I do.”

Her smile was sleepy, still blissed out from her orgasm. “Don’t be stupid, Draco. Of course I do.” She kissed him again for good measure.

He shimmied his pants down to his knees. That’s as far as he made it before he sunk into her, the sight of her pink cunt spread out before him nearly enough to make him come on the spot.

“Fuck!” He had never felt anything as divine before. Her warmth was like coming home.

She moaned as he started to move, her hands holding onto his hips as he pistoned into her. Her muscles grabbed him tightly as he reared back and it was exquisite agony, trying to last long enough to make her come again. Her noises were sweeter than the angelic voices of the sisters as they sang their hymns.

He smoothed her damp hair back from her face and kissed her temple. “I love your hair. I hate that they make you hide it.”

This earned him a heady smile, followed quickly by a grunt of pleasure as she shifted her hips and he went even deeper. “Faster, Draco,” she whispered as her eyes screwed shut.

“Bless you, my child.” He complied with her request, bringing his fingers down to play with her clit.

Hermione swore as she came again, her inner walls clenching him in euphoric torture. Draco thrust once, twice more and then he was gone as well, spilling inside of her. It was then he remembered: no wand, no magic, no contraception spell. His eyes widened.

“Don’t worry.”

“Huh?” He was still softening inside of her, not yet wanting their union to end.

“I cast the charm over myself as soon as I saw you on the steps.”

“You little minx.” He kissed her again.

 

* * *

 

Something thudded on the ground behind Hermione and she turned to look. It was Draco’s suitcase.

“Which one is this again?” He eyed the stone statue she’d been staring at for the past ten minutes.

Voldemort was dead. Harry was alive. The war was over, and it was time to go home.

“St. Jude,” she answered. _The patron saint of lost causes_.

“Ah, right. I could never keep them straight.”

“So what happens now?” It was as vague as she was willing to be, the hope for something more on the tip of her tongue.

He shrugged. “We move on with our lives, I suppose.”

“As in… separately?”

Draco rolled his eyes. “We, as in you and me, Granger. _Us_. Together.”

“Oh. Okay.” She smiled as she picked up her suitcase. As they walked to the boat that was waiting for them, she added, “You know, I think I might miss Father Malfoy.”

He smirked and held his luggage aloft. “I kept the cassock… for role-play purposes.”

“Draco!” She smacked him on the arm, but heat flooded her lower abdomen thinking about him in the uniform. She whispered, “Thank you.”

“You’re quite welcome… _my child_.”

The sound of her laughter rang through the salty ocean air like a bell.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi on [twitter](https://twitter.com/monsterleadme).


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